


Cold Hands

by Dardrea



Series: Fluffy Hiatus Sunday Ficlets [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Rumbelle - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hiatus Sunday Fluff 2014 - 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:16:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3143918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dardrea/pseuds/Dardrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My first Haitus Sunday Fluff fest piece. Basically...Belle has cold hands. Super short, plotless little bit of cute Rumbelle in an AU where Bae/Neal didn't die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Hands

Belle hadn’t tried to enter the shop quietly—the bell had rung as she’d come through the door, as it always did—but there was no answer when she called out for Rumpel and when she ventured into the back room and found him standing at the table behind his desk, polishing rag and bronze urn in hand, lost in his own world as he worked, a playful thought struck her.

She stepped quietly through the room, carefully dodging his assorted restorations in progress until she stood behind him, pausing for a moment to admire the strong line of his back in the lovely tailored suit jacket. Then she laid her fingers, freezing from her short, gloveless walk from the library to his shop, along both sides of his neck.

He yelped and jumped and she giggled, but he caught her hands before she could dance away from him and he brought her cold fingers to his mouth for a kiss and then to breathe warmth at them.

“Hey,” he said with that slow, sweet smile she so loved.

She leaned up to kiss the hands that held hers captive. “Hey, yourself. You’re distracted today. You really didn’t hear me come in? I called you from the floor and you didn’t answer.”

He cocked his head. “I must have been distracted, indeed, if I missed my lovely wife calling my name.”

Distracted by unhappy thoughts, if she was any judge at all of his expression. The Christmas season and turning of the year could be hard on anyone. It was a time of joy and remembrance both, but not all memories can be joyful ones.

She pulled her hands free and he watched her, bemused and a little surprised as he often seemed to be—had  _always_  seemed to be—that she could hardly keep her hands off of him. She slid them now inside his unbuttoned jacket, gliding around his waist as she moved herself against him, wiggling until she could tuck more of herself inside his jacket and against his body, giving a happy shiver at the warmth she found there.

He laughed and closed his arms around her, rubbing his chin over the top of her head. “I bought you that jacket to keep you warm, you know. And the gloves. And the scarf,” he teased in a mild voice.

She pressed her nose against his neck, grinning at how he jerked again at the touch of her cold skin. “I know,” she said. “But I was thinking about seeing you and it was warm enough inside the library—so I may have forgotten them all at my desk when I locked up.”

He sighed. “I suppose I must simply keep you warm myself, then.”

“Mmmhmmm,” she hummed readily. “I think so. Can’t have your wife freezing to death so close to Christmas. What would the neighbors think?”

He snorted. “Probably the same things they already think. That I’m an old monster who doesn’t deserve his pretty, young wi—”

She silenced him, leaning up, curling her hands in the lapels of his jacket and pressing her mouth to his until they both forgot what they’d been talking about.

They might have continued to forget more than that but even from the back room of his shop they could hear the clock above the library chime the six o’clock hour, causing Belle to tear herself from his arms and kisses with a gasp.

She didn’t get far with his hand tangled in her hair, literally tangled, since he’d tugged it half loose from her careful updo and now found his fingers trapped in the coils. “We’ll come back to that,” she promised him as they disentangled and she carefully brushed her curls back up in a loose semblance of order.

She reached for his hand as she all but skipped out of the room, tugging him behind her with a humoring smile.

“C’mon, c’mon, Rumpel, we’re already late. We told Neal we’d meet him and Henry at six and it’s past six o’clock already!”


End file.
